The One Who Truly Holds My Heart
by Keira-House M.D
Summary: Their argument in the woods brings her back to her senses – Albert will not suit her. But dear Lord M is another matter entirely. Victoria/Melbourne.


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the historical characters in Victoria nor do I own the TV series which was written by Daisy Goodwin. Any lines from the show are also not mine and are just borrowed from Daisy Goodwin and ITV Victoria.**

* * *

She has no idea why she ever thought she could like Albert as a husband.

A few words about his mother at the ball and she had been almost besotted by him. She had even offered him her flower – the one so sweetly given to her by dear Lord M – in memory of his mother.

A kind gesture on her part, to be sure, but such an insult to Lord M – it pains her to think of the hurt she has caused him by her thoughtless action.

She will have to apologise. Lord M takes such care with the flowers he gives her and she wishes him to understand that despite her error she does appreciate his beautiful gifts.

She has behaved most badly. Riding out with the prince who has been so dour and rude, and letting him flirt with her … even flirting back a little. Now she is alone in the woods regretting her decisions and wishing Albert back only so she can let him have a piece of her mind.

She needs to see Lord M as soon as she manages to get herself and poor Dash back to the castle. She has to explain about the flowers of course, but she is also strangely desperate to reassure him that she has not fallen for Albert, that her temporary craze for him was a moment of foolishness.

She needs him to know just how highly she esteems him.

* * *

She picks her way through the forest with Dash growing heavier and more restless in her arms by the minute.

Her horse is nowhere to be found but she soon realises she is close to the forest edge, and close to Windsor.

She calls for a guard as soon as they are in hearing distance and hands over Dash to be taken to have his leg looked at. She aches to go with him but there is something else she wishes to do first.

Her hair is plastered to her head with sweat, her arms ache and she has not had an outfit so dirtied by the outdoors since that day Lord M temporarily retired and she mourned his absence in the Buckingham Palace gardens in the middle of a rainstorm.

She needs a wash, feels grubby and tired and irritated.

However, a plan has formed in her mind, a small gesture to try and help show Lord M how sorry she is.

Victoria walks towards the flowerbeds with purpose.

She does not know his favourite colour or the meanings of the flowers but she picks the ones she thinks are beautiful and bright. She wants it to be a happy bouquet to reflect the contentment she feels in his presence and how pleased she is to have him in her life.

She pricks her fingers on the thorns of some roses but she does not mind – she is almost pleased to see the cuts marring her smooth, white hands, a sign of her determination to create something for him herself.

She receives a few odd looks from the guards and gardeners but of course they will not question her and she is perfectly within her rights to pick flowers if she wants.

When she has an armful of flowers she makes her way towards the castle, hoping she will be able to make it to her rooms without running into mama, uncle Leopold or her cousins. She has no desire to see any of them at the moment.

* * *

Victoria is lucky, seeing only a few servants on her journey to her bedroom.

She can see the confusion in their eyes – she rarely wanders around with anything except Dash in her arms after all – but as with those outside they do not question her.

Lehzen, though, cannot quite contain her curiosity when the queen wanders in with her dress an inch deep in mud and her arms full of flowers.

"Majesty?"

"I have decided to make up a bouquet, Lehzen," she explains, careful not to say who it is for – she trusts Lehzen but her old governess has a tendency to think of her as a child and she will not be pleased to hear that Victoria plans to give flowers to her Prime Minister.

"I could ask a gardener if you wish, Majesty."

"That is quite alright, Lehzen. I wish to do this myself. Could you ask Skerrett to look out a few of my old ribbons so I can use one of them to tie this together?"

"Of course Majesty."

Victoria lays the flowers out on the table in front of her and begins to move them around, trying to find the best combination of her choices.

She smiles as she surveys the beginnings of her work – it is all coming together nicely.

* * *

"Lehzen," says Victoria, once her flowers are made up and standing in a vase of water, and Skerrett and Mrs Jenkins are helping her out of her damp, muddy dress, "I find that I am unable to dine downstairs tonight – all that riding in the forest has quite exhausted me."

"Of course, Majesty," says Lehzen.

The baroness says nothing of Prince Albert's conduct, though she very much wishes to, as the queen seems to have decided to ignore her cousin's existence for the moment and Lehzen is not going to be the one to bring him up.

"Of course Lord M must come up here to dine with me," the queen continues, "it would be so dull to eat alone. But as for mama, uncle Leopold and my cousins, you may tell them that I am quite indisposed."

"Shall I stay with you, Majesty?" asks Lehzen, "it is very different to see Lord Melbourne alone for dinner rather than just during the day for your paperwork."

"No Lehzen, I will be quite alright, I assure you. Dear Lord M is no danger to me. I am very sure that _he_ at least has never abandoned a lady with her injured dog, far away from her horse, in the middle of the forest."

It appears, Lehzen thinks, that the queen has _not_ forgotten Prince Albert's behaviour, nor does it seem likely that she will soon forgive him.

She curtsies as the queen moves towards her steaming bath and goes to pass on the news. The duchess and King Leopold are not likely to be pleased but she knows the queen well enough to realise that she will not change her mind.

* * *

Victoria examines her amateur bouquet.

Windsor does not have gardens nearly as extensive as Buckingham Palace but she has made the best of what she managed to collect on her journey back and she thinks that it shows effort and feeling even if it may lack talent.

She hopes he understands, hopes he accepts her apology.

She still cannot understand what she was thinking, giving away Lord M's thoughtful gift to a man she barely knows, a man who has shown himself to be ungallant and rude in the extreme.

She has been trying so hard to be a good queen but in this it is like she has regressed, gone back to being a silly little girl.

Lord M deserves better.

* * *

She feels a bit foolish handing over the flowers to Lord M with a mumbled "for you" when he arrives, but of course he puts her at ease as he has always done.

"You have a good eye, Ma'am," he tells her, "and it is a very thoughtful gesture – is there an occasion?"

She blushes, "I am sorry, Lord M," she blurts out, "about your flower and giving it to Albert at the ball – it was so very wrong of me. Do say you forgive me."

He takes her hands, runs his fingers over the small cuts she received from the thorns as she collected the flowers for him. And then he brings her hands to his lips and presses kisses against every mark.

She feels dizzy, her penitence making way for pleasure and relief.

"There is nothing to forgive, Ma'am. The flower was yours to do with as you wished."

"I am sorry all the same," she insists, "I regretted it the moment I did it – I am not sure what came over me."

"Attraction, Ma'am," he tells her, "has it not occurred to you that perhaps you are not so indifferent to Prince Albert as you want to believe?"

His expression is serious and his voice lacking his usual good humour but he will not let her be ignorant about this, not even if it causes him pain by leading her to realise she might care for Prince Albert.

She flushes pink again, "he is … attractive," she admits, "and for a few moments I thought …I imagined … but no, attraction is not enough to build a marriage upon. And I think, I am sure, after today that Albert and I are not suited.

Melbourne can feel his heart start to race, can feel hope even though he knows it is dangerous to even think that the queen's words can ever mean things could evolve between them.

There are other princes and royals in the world. And her dislike of Prince Albert does not make Melbourne any more suitable, any more worthy of her heart.

And yet he feels hope nonetheless. Because he has tried to pull away, tried to get her to give Prince Albert a chance. But it has ended as it always does, with just the two of them and the feelings and trust and friendship that is between them. How can he hope to fight against that?

"Do sit down, Lord M," she says, "I have ordered dinner and it should arrive soon enough."

He hesitates for a moment. They are alone together often, but that is usually in her study dealing with her boxes. Even when they ride out or walk together in the gardens there are guards or chaperones in the background. Now though they are within her sitting room, right next door to her bedroom. An intimate scene to be sure and one he is sure it is not particularly wise to participate in.

Yet he knows she will not go downstairs. The baroness has made it clear that the queen is angry with Prince Albert and in no mood to hear her mother and uncle attempt to make her well-disposed towards her cousin.

And the queen does not enjoy dinner in solitude. He knows she likes to have conversation and laughter around her. How can he leave her alone to eat, especially after her earlier experience?

He is quite furious with Prince Albert himself. He has not had the full story, though doubtless he will receive it from the queen soon enough, but from what he has learnt it appears the prince abandoned the queen and the injured Dash in the forest after an argument. Such a disgraceful way to behave – it would have been bad enough were she an ordinary woman but to endanger the safety of the Queen of England in such a way is a matter of national security. If the queen had not been so close to the tree line who knows what might have happened.

He realises his thoughts have occupied him for a few moments too long and takes his seat quickly. There might be talk but here at Windsor it will not filter out to those not at the castle as it would have at Buckingham Palace. And he cannot refuse the queen, has never been able to.

"How is Dash?" he asks, not seeing the dog and hoping his injury is not too bad, for the queen will be quite inconsolable if something happens to her dear pet.

"They say he will recover quite well," the queen answers, though he can see she is still worried, "they gave him something to make him sleep so he is in my bedchamber at the moment. Perhaps you will check on him later with me, Lord M?"

"Perhaps," he replies noncommittally.

He wants to help reassure the queen of her dog's continued health but he worries at the idea of entering her bedchamber while they are alone. It is one thing to dine in her sitting room with no one else present but this, he knows, would probably be a step too far.

His friendship with the queen has been the reason behind enough trouble and he does not wish to cause further problems for her.

Victoria watches Lord M carefully. He does not seem to be at all angry with her and the fact that his fingers are constantly stroking the petals of the flowers she has given him seems like a good sign.

She wants things to go back to the easy way they were before the princes arrived. She wants to talk about affairs of state and the news of the court. She wants to laugh and joke with Lord M about whatever comes into her head because she knows that no matter how ridiculous she might sound he will never truly mock her.

She wishes Dash were there. He is always such a good conversation opener for her and Lord M is one of the few apart from herself that he does not bark at.

But what is she thinking? This is Lord M, the one man who has been there for her ever since she became queen, the one who believes in her abilities even where everyone else doubts. She does not need conversation starters with him.

"Perhaps you will tell me what news there is from Macnaghten in Kabul, Lord M. And how was the House – were the Tories as horrid as they usually are?"

He laughs and she relaxes back into her chair.

She is glad. She never wants there to be any awkwardness between herself and Lord M.

* * *

Melbourne is used to short dinners with the queen. She eats quickly and of course as soon as she is finished the plates are removed.

But tonight it is different. The queen has ordered not courses but a large array of food all delivered at once for them to choose from. There are no servants to remove the plates and they simply eat what they want at whatever speed they choose.

It is a novel experience but he does not think much of it, too distracted by speaking with the queen.

They never run out of topics to discuss or find themselves bored. In fact it is only when the clock chimes to indicate that it is eleven that he realises how long they have been together.

"I must retire, Ma'am. I have to be at the House tomorrow so I will be required to leave the castle early in the morning."

She nods, "we shall not be staying another day here and should be back at Buckingham Palace late tomorrow afternoon. You will come to dinner?"

For a brief moment he considers making an excuse. His private dinner with the queen will of course reach King Leopold's ear and he knows the King of the Belgians will not be at all happy about it. Melbourne knows he really should stay away, at least for a day or so. But he will not, because the queen has asked him to come and he cannot refuse her … does not want to.

"Of course, Ma'am."

She beams at him and it lights up the room.

He dreams that night of flowers and her smile and of pressing his lips to hers.

* * *

"Lord M … there is something I must tell you."

"William … may I call you that?"

"I know you have asked me to consider Prince Albert but I …"

Victoria, standing in front of her mirror in her bedroom at Buckingham Palace, sighs as she tries to find the words she wishes to say to Lord M.

True to his word he had dined with them on the evening of their return from Windsor to Buckingham Palace. He had endured her uncle's rude comments and Albert's sullen looks and her mama's sniffs. She is so grateful to him for being there, a friendly presence amongst her nervous ladies and disappointed, disapproving family.

Now, four days later, her uncle and cousins have departed.

She thinks of her uncle's persistence over the past few days, his attempts to persuade her to forget what he likes to call her 'minor disagreement' with Albert and propose to him.

Uncle Leopold had been very put out when she had constantly refused both his suggestions and her mama's tearful pleas.

Though they have irritated her recently she does not like to have caused such distress to her uncle and mama. But what else can she do, for they will not see that she is never going to marry Albert.

The only man she can think of as a husband, the only one she wants to spend her life with, is Lord M.

She has not seen him too often since their return to Windsor, only once at dinner and twice to look at her boxes for a few hours. He has been so busy at the House, or at least that has been his excuse. She knows he has been trying to stay out of the way of her uncle Leopold, who seems to consider him solely responsible for her refusal to marry Albert.

Poor uncle Leopold, how wrong he is. How he misjudges Lord M, who is the one who encouraged her to give Albert a chance despite it clearly hurting him to do so. No, the fault for the lack of engagement does not lie with Lord M. She and Albert are the ones that do not suit.

Now her uncle and the princes are gone so she is free to see Lord M as she pleases.

And she has something so very important to say to him.

Her apology over the flower has assuaged her conscience in relation to _that_ particular mistake of hers but it has not done anything for the ache in her heart.

The ache that yearns for him.

She loves him. For a few moments she had believed that she might be able to love Albert, but that had been a fleeting emotion not at all comparable to her longstanding feelings for Lord M.

Now she just has to try and figure out how to tell him.

"Lord M, I find now that my uncle and cousins have departed …"

She shakes her head. No, it is still not quite right.

She begins again.

* * *

Victoria notices that the weather seems to agree with her plans – it is bright and clear and fairly warm, with no hint of rain.

Lord M comes at ten to help with her boxes and they work for three hours in companionable quiet – she asks questions every now and then, and he mentions salient facts to her, but they are not entirely as animated as usual.

Victoria is nervous about what is to come, jittery and not wanting to speak lest she betray her intentions too early. And Lord M is ready to follow her example, clearly recognising that she is not quite in the mood for their regular lively conversation.

At one they break to eat lunch and drink tea together and she revels in the domesticity between them, the ease with which they complete these little rituals showing the intimacy between them.

She takes it as a good sign.

"Shall we go for a walk in the gardens?" she asks as the tea service is cleared away, "it is such a beautiful day."

She tries not to sound too eager but her eyes are wide and pleading.

She has gone over her confession a hundred times, has built herself up to this moment, and she worries that if she loses her chance now she might also lose her courage.

Melbourne gives her an unusually wide smile, far more obvious than the twitching at the corners of his mouth that generally betrays his amusement or pleasure.

The return home of the princes has made him more jovial than usual – he persists in believing that further suitors will come, but for now things are as they were – in those happy days before reality set in – between the queen and himself.

And he wishes it to continue like this for as long as possible.

 _Forever_ his heart whispers.

But he tries not to think like that – no use in false hopes after all.

* * *

He tells her about the flowers they pass as they walk. It is a topic he enjoys and she likes to hear him talk.

As they pass round a corner and away from the sight of those in the palace she loops one of her arms through his.

He looks down, questioning and nervous, "Ma'am, I do not think this wise."

"But do you not know, Lord M, I tripped and think I might have sprained my ankle. You are only helping me so I do not damage it further."

There is a mischievous twinkle in her eyes but otherwise she delivers her story with a guileless expression. And he cannot scold her for the little lie, not when she is so close and she looks at him with that smile she seems to save just for him.

"I am so glad to be here with you," she says as they walk, "I do not think I am ever so happy as when we are together."

"I am glad to be of service, Ma'am."

She stops abruptly, looks up at him softly, "it is more than service, is it not, Lord M? You a far more to me than just my Prime Minister."

 _You are everything_ he wants to tell her. But he cannot be so bold, not even now as they stand near enough for him to feel the heat from her body.

Victoria sees how torn he is but she knows that they have to be open with each other now.

She untangles their arms and takes his hands in hers.

She looks up at him but he does not seem to see the love in her eyes … or perhaps he is just trying not to, thinking he has to be self-sacrificing.

"You and I," she tells him, "we have always been more than people say we should be. But that does not make it wrong."

"You are the queen," he says, almost desperately, "I am not worthy of you, Ma'am."

"You deserve happiness," Victoria insists, "and you are more than worthy – with your noble, true heart, your kindness, your great feeling."

Tears spring from the corners of her eyes, "how can you not see it, Lord M – why do you not see what I see?"

He sighs but his eyes are full of love – he finds that he cannot hide his feelings from her.

Now is the moment.

"Lord M … William … you are the one who truly holds my heart. And I wish never to be parted from you, not for anything or anyone."

She pauses a moment, takes a breath, "I am yours ... always."

She sees it then, the change in his countenance. He has always resisted expressing himself fully to her, but now she thinks her words have broken the dam.

And they have. He cannot hold out against such a heartfelt plea, a laying down of her heart in front of him.

Because he loves her just as much as she does him, with a fire that burns like the sun.

"I …"

His words stutter in his throat, his usual charm failing him. She is so beautiful and amazing and his heart bursts when he looks at her.

He kisses her and in that kiss he expresses everything he is not currently able to put into words.

His hopes and fears and love and devotion and care.

It is bliss. All their dreams (and there have been many) have not prepared either of them for what they feel when their lips meet for the first time, softly to begin and then more fiercely as they pour all their emotions into that first kiss.

She has his heart. She has had it almost since the moment they met.

And he has hers, safe in his steady, loving hands, to be treasured and adored.

Forever.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.**


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